Addicted to Love
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz. Liz develops an appetite of a different sort.


Title: Addicted to Love

Author: Mindy

Rating: T sexual concepts.

Disclaimer: Tina owns the world. Lyrics are from "Accidentally in Love" by the Counting Crows.

Pairing: Jack/Liz and no other.

Spoilers: Nope

Summary: Liz develops an appetite of a different sort.

-x-

"_So she said, What's the problem, baby?_

_What's the problem? I dunno, well, maybe I'm in love,_

_Think about it, every time I think about it,_

_Can't stop thinking about it,_

_How much longer will it take to cure this? _

_Just to cure it, cos I can't ignore it, if it's Love, _

_Makes me wanna turn around and face me, _

_But I don't know nothing 'bout Love…"_

-x-

"I brought you lunch, Lemon."

She threw her pen down on her desk. "Augh. Great."

Jack stood in the doorway, white paper bag in hand: "What's the matter?"

She sighed heavily. "I don't want it."

"It's a sandwich," he offered, holding up the bag: "Your favourite. From your favourite place. I even got the dipping sauce you like."

"I know," she huffed: "I can smell it from here. But I'm not hungry, Jack."

He examined her with a troubled brow: "What do you mean '_not hungry'_? Are you unwell?"

"No," she shrugged. "I'm just not hungry. Ever. And it's your fault."

"Oka-ay." He closed her office door and took a seat opposite her on the couch. "Explain."

She let out another sigh, before beginning mournfully: "Food used to be my favourite thing, Jack, my _absolute _favourite."

He nodded. "I'm aware of your enthusiasm for it."

"More than that," she went on, voice brimming with anxiety and longing: "it used to be my _refuge_. When I'd had a bad day, if I was feeling stressed or tired or depressed or lonely or sad or whatever, I'd get a meatball sub or a box of donuts and it…it made me feel better."

"I understand fully."

"In fact," she added, lifting a hand then letting it drop to her desktop with a slap: "I would go so far as to say that my most enduring relationship in my adult years has been with Food."

"And I wouldn't argue. Your point is?"

"_My point is_," she replied strenuously: "_that urge_ is _gone_. I don't feel…_any _of those things now – not sad or depressed or lonely." She stabbed a finger at him, eyes narrowed: "And it's _all _because of _you_."

Jack tipped his head at her, attempting to understand. "So…you're upset about losing the desire to eat your own negative feelings?"

Liz rose from her desk, asking him abruptly: "Do you know what I've eaten today?"

"What?"

"A banana."

He waited. His eyes cut to one side. "…And…?"

"Exactly." She nodded as though proving an incredibly important point: "_And,_ nothing, Jack. That is _it_. One banana. Do you _have any idea_ what I usually eat in an average morning?"

"I think I'd rather not know."

"I didn't even have _coffee_ this morning." She gave an exaggerated, baffled shrug: "I didn't need it. I basically _jumped _out of bed."

"I know, I was there," he murmured: "You jumped _me_, in fact."

"And look-- " she pulled her shirt up, baring her belly and the low waist of her jeans, belted tight by what looked like some electrical cord: "I've lost weight -- my jeans don't fit anymore. My skin has cleared up. I'm _cheerful _all the time--" She interrupted herself, raising her eyebrows and pointing at him: "Lutz offered me a donut this morning and do you know what I said?"

"What?"

She paused for effect. "'No thanks'."

"Hm." He had to admit: "That is…abnormal."

"This what I'm saying…" she moaned, stepping out from behind her desk and casting a reproachful look in his direction: "I've completely lost my appetite. And it's thanks to _you_ and all your…sexing of me."

He cleared his throat. "I do apologise."

Her accusatory attitude increased as she rounded on him: "Don't be ironic when I'm having a meltdown. This is _serious_. I think I might be…fulfilled. It's _very_ unsettling."

He cocked his head. "Would you like me to _stop_ having sex with you? Would that help?"

Liz lay a hand on her chest, touched. "You'd do that? Really?"

"No," he answered without hesitation: "Nor do I believe you'd truly want me to. I was merely trying to highlight the irrationality of what you are apparently so distressed about. Quite frankly, I waited far too long to – excuse the expression – get into your pants, I don't plan on voluntarily leaving them without good reason. Or until I have--" he paused, gaze drifting over her: "had my fill."

She stuck her hands on her hips. "And when might that be?"

"I…really couldn't tell you," he rasped.

"Can you give me a ballpark figure?" she demanded, brows knit: "Are we talking weeks or months here?"

Jack stretched his arms over the back of the couch, drawing out his words: "We're talking years, Lemon, possibly decades."

Her hands dropped to her sides, shoulders slumping. "I can't keep this up. I'll _starve_! Or end up looking like one of those lollipop ladies. If you wanted to date Teri Hatcher, I'm sure you could just date Teri Hatcher."

"You know full well I don't wish to date anyone else," he declared with an easy smile: "And I assure you, you will not waste away, I'd never let that happen. I like your hips too much, for one thing, to see them disappear. If necessary, we will simply incorporate food into our activities to make it more palatable to you."

"No, see, it's more than that, Jack, I just--" She shook her head at the carpet: "I don't feel like _myself_ anymore."

"Why?"

"I want you," she blurted.

"Yes?"

She looked up, adding worriedly: "_All_ the time."

He examined her, confused: "And, this is…a _problem_ for you?"

"Yes!" Her exasperation resurfaced, hands gesturing at him wildly: "I _can't stop_ _thinking_ about it. About _you_! I just-- I want to…touch you and rip off your clothes and…put my mouth on your mouth!"

"I have no objections to that," he mused, one hand smoothing down his tie: "Your affections are not unreciprocated in this case. So what is the problem?"

She released a breath, exploding: "The problem is me! What is _wrong _with me?!"

"Absolutely nothing," he replied breezily.

She humphed. "You would say that."

"Lemon," he told her soothingly: "For the first time in your life, you are experiencing a strong, healthy sexual desire for your partner. Not only am I pleased, but I must say, I'm…rather proud."

She squirmed visibly, lips twisting into a grimace: "I'm not _comfortable_ with it though. And I can't even talk to some food about it."

"I don't see why you should need to."

"Most dysfunctional women--" She began to pace, then stopped to shoot him a wry look: "and let's not kid ourselves that I'm not one of them—"

Jack shrugged. "We are having this conversation, so don't see how there could be any point in debating such an obvious minor detail."

She resumed pacing the area between her desk and the couch. "Most dysfunctional women generally fall into two categories – those who take refuge in sex and those who take refuge in food. For the most part -- with some glaring exceptions in my early twenties -- I was always the second type."

"I could've guessed as much," he nodded, then added: "I am curious about the glaring exceptions though."

"But not now!" she ignored him and continued. She made some vague circles with her hands at her own body: "I never used to get these, _these urges_ before, and if I did, I would just…I dunno, get Chinese."

Jack peered at her from under his brows. "I'm assuming you mean take-out."

"Don't ask me why," she shrugged: "it always worked."

"In which case," he declared definitively: "we are never eating Chinese food. Nor will I ever take you to China. Or any place remotely like it."

"The thing is," she went on: "I _used_ to be able to satisfy all my…my, you know, cravings…with food. But now, it seems that _you're_ satisfying _aaaaall of them_. To the point that I'm……for lack of a better term, full."

"Would you like me to satisfy you less?" Jack asked, watching her from his position on the sofa.

"That's not what I'm saying," she muttered, turning on her heel: "Food was like a hobby to me. Even when I wasn't eating it, I was thinking about it. That's how I used to get through the topical meeting every week – imagining what I was going to have for lunch afterwards." She stopped, turned to face him: "Do you know what I do in the topical meetings now?"

"What?"

She rolled her eyes at herself. "I _completely_ space-out because someone mentions The Artist formerly known as Prince, which makes _me_ think of Prince-TON, which makes me imagine _you_ in bed in your Princeton t-shirt, which leads to me thinking about you in bed _without_ your Princeton t-shirt. Next thing you know, ten minutes have gone by and the only thing I've been able to think about is you and your hairy chest."

Jack couldn't help an impressed smirk. "My, my, Lemon. How the mightily undersexed have fallen."

She waggled her head: "It is _definitely_ not helpful when I'm trying to come up with sketch ideas and keep my lazy-ass writers on task. They're usually the ones mumbling weird things about sex at inappropriate times, not me."

His smirk transformed to a gentle smile. "I think you may be overreacting just a little here. It is certainly not abnormal to daydream about sex at work. Particularly whist in the throws of a new relationship where the love-making has been, if I may say so, nothing short of extraordinary."

She moved to the front of her desk, leaning her butt against the edge. "Well, it's abnormal for me."

He scoffed loudly: "Oh, come on. Are you honestly telling me that you've never had sexual thoughts while at work?"

She made a face. "No. Never."

"Never?" He lifted his brows at her: "Never ever?"

"Have you _seen_ the dudes I work with?" she answered bluntly: "Have you _smelt_ them?"

"You work with me too," he countered, voice raspy: "Close enough to smell me, if you wished to."

"Yeah, I _work_ with you. But I never…" her eyes ran over him as she struggled to complete her thought: "_lusted_ after you."

He paused a moment. "Until now."

She blinked. And gulped. "Correct."

His lips curled up at each edge. That, coupled with the slyly pleased gleam in his blue eyes created an effect that was devastatingly sexy. And he knew it. She knew he knew it. What's more, he knew she knew he knew it. He let the silence stretch, let her words linger in the air between them -- before he stood from the couch, approaching her slowly.

"Well, I must say," he mused, eyes cast downwards: "I'm a little confused by your discontentment. I _was_ under the impression you were comfortable with the new turn our relationship has taken. I was under the impression," he looked up at her: "that you _liked _sleeping with me."

"I do," she replied, the words coming out without censorship: "I _love_ it."

He stopped in front of her, his feet between hers. "I certainly heard no complaints as I made love to you last night in my bed."

She blinked. "No--"

He leant down, placing his hands on the edge of the desk, either side of her hips: "Or this morning in the bathroom."

Her eyes were fixed on his, as if spellbound. "Definitely no."

Jack drew in a slow breath, gaze dropping briefly to her mouth. "Or this morning again in the elevator."

"Okay," she asserted weakly: "_that time_ -- was mostly you."

He drew back, eyes wide with amused indignation: "Is that so? _Who_ shoved _who _against the wall?"

Her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched: "Who threw their coat over the security camera and pressed the emergency stop button? Who undid whose pants and put their hand inside?"

Jack paused. "Ah. Also you. If I remember correctly." He grinned at her: "And…I do."

"Oh. So that's all on _me_ now, is it?" she asked, irked: "I'm to blame for the elevator sex?"

"I'm not _blaming _you." He laughed softly, stuffing his hands in his pockets: "Quite the contrary."

She shook her head, tone turning accusatory again: "Don't pull that innocent crap on me, Jack Donaghy, you knew what you were doing the whole time."

His eyes sparkled as he rocked back on his heels. "Really? What was I doing?"

"Oh, puh-lease! You knew!" she flustered, arms flying about: "Standing there with…with your _hair _and, and your _lips_ and--" she pointed to his hands like they were doing something outrageously arousing: "and your hands in your pockets! Huh?! What do you think, I'm made of stone?"

"Apparently not," he mused, taking his hands out of his pockets to examine them.

"Darn right, I'm not," she mumbled angrily.

With a shrug, he dropped them back to his sides. "So!" he stated with a businessman's air of finality: "to recap, you are _angry_ that you are _attracted_ to your boyfriend. You are _upset_ that said boyfriend," he pointed a finger at his chest: "is also deeply attracted to you _and_ cares about you and thus, after years of denial, has finally done something to move your relationship to another level. And in so doing, your very capable, loving boyfriend has at last begun making vigorous love to you on a daily, and nightly, basis."

Liz opened her mouth to respond.

"In addition to this," Jack continued calmly: "you are _unsettled_ by the fact that whilst enjoying that privilege, afore mentioned loving boyfriend," again, he pointed: "is introducing you to pleasure and satisfaction that you've never known before." He paused, blinking at her: "Have I missed anything?"

She stuck her bottom lip out. "You don't need to get snippy, I was just being honest."

"Liz. Listen to me." He placed both hands on her shoulders, looking down at her a moment with a concerned eye: "You're starting to look a little stressed. May I do something to take the edge off?"

"Very funny," she huffed, shrugging his hands off her shoulders, only for them to move to her waist.

"I wasn't joking," Jack replied logically: "If this is your new addiction, if this is your new way of dealing with daily stresses, then I say we embrace it." He pulled her away from the desk and into his arms: "I dare say your body – and a lovely body it is too – has been starved of even moderately satisfying sexual attention for many, many years. If you think about it, it makes perfect sense."

She sniffed. "It does?"

"Of course. Now that your poor, deprived physique has had a taste of intense carnal gratification, it craves it. Even more than it did hotdogs or coffee -- which it has had more than its fill of over the years. You're making up for lost time, that's all."

"Mm, maybe."

His voice lowered as he moved in to pluck at her lips with his: "Fortunately for you, you have a partner who is more than willing to satiate your endless cravings any time you want," he kissed her again, more lingeringly: "in any way you want," and again, whispering against her mouth: "for as long as you may possibly want."

She released a breath, hands moving up and down his arms: "And I appreciate that. I do, Jack."

"But?"

She raised her eyes to his. "But I miss food, Jack, I _miss_ it."

"I see." He nodded his head then lifted both hands to cup her face: "Answer me this then…Did a sandwich ever make your eyes roll back into your head and your toes curl and your knees give out like when I do that thing you try to pretend you don't enjoy so much?"

She tipped her head to one side, looking thoughtful: "Honestly…?"

"Let me put it this way," he amended, hands moving to her shoulders: "Did cheese curls ever make you as deliriously happy as we have been these last few weeks?"

She smiled shakily at him. "I guess not."

He went on, eyes glowing: "And, in all your food-loving years, did you ever find _any_ food of _any_ variety that was able to love you back?"

"I thought I came close once, but..." She lifted her hands to his arms: "No."

"Well, I do," he said, gaze roving over her face: "So." He tossed his head to the couch where their unwanted lunches lay: "I have a good twenty-five minutes before I'm needed upstairs. Are you going to eat that sandwich? Or would you prefer something--"

She shot him a sideways look. "What?"

He grinned and finished: "More fulfilling."

She snorted, face breaking into a smile: "Now…?"

His hands skated down her back, fingertips teasing the flesh above the waist of her jeans: "Come on…you know you want to."

"Oh boy…." she sighed, already giving in: "Heeere we go again." She slid her hands up to his shoulders, warning him: "You better enjoy this while you can, buddy, 'cause it's not going to last forever."

"That's what you say," he muttered then began a series of kisses down her jaw: "I have greater faith."

"In what, exactly? My deficiency of good lovin' or your own sex appeal?"

"Let's say, both."

Her hands stole inside his jacket roaming eagerly over his chest, shoulders, back, stomach -- her actions undermining her words: "I mean it, Casanova. No-sex-Liz with her donuts and hotdogs and her muffin-top will be back before you know it, and the fun times will be O-V-E-R. Over."

Jack swept one hand under her hair, cupping her head and looking her in the eye: "You don't need to spell it out for me. I'll believe it when I see it."

"You asked for it," she muttered, fingers looped into his belt: "Get ready for the flannel pjs and bed socks."

"I'll consider myself forewarned," he smirked, before swooping in to recapture her mouth: "And I'll enjoy taking them off."

She moaned as he kissed her. Couldn't help herself. She slipped her tongue into his mouth as they stumbled their way towards her door, feet tripping over each other's and hands delving inside clothes.

"This is not me," she panted, her back against the door, her head tipped back into the coats that hung there: "This isn't me, Jack. This is just…it's just a phase I'm going through."

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled into her neck: "It's some phase…"

"It's true," she sighed, planting kisses in his hair as he suckled at her neck: "I can stop. I can stop whenever I want. I just don't want to."

Jack smirked as his fingers slid under her shirt, undid her bra. "Classic junkie talk."

"Like you can talk," she remarked, dragging him up by his tie: "You're just as addicted to me as I am to you."

"I don't deny that," he answered, one hand caressing her through her shirt: "Nor do I have a problem with it. I've waited all my life for a woman I can't get enough of and who can't get enough of me. And I see no downside to pleasuring her morning, noon and night."

"Well, it's noon," she announced, pushing him off her: "Come on, junkie."

"Where are we going?" he asked, watching with eager eyes as she turned to the door and cracked it open.

"Where do you think?" she whispered, peering through at the bustling writer's room: "I'm not doing it with you with my staff on the other side of this door."

"Sex in the elevator?" he murmured by her ear: "Twice in one day?"

"We've already done it once."

"Precisely."

She turned to meet his gaze, a devilish smile on her lips: "So what makes you think we're only going to do it once this time?"

He chuckled delightedly but told her. "I did say twenty-five minutes."

"Oh? Well--" she shut the door and began to walk away: "If you don't have the time--"

"It'll wait." He caught her hand, tugged her back and kissed her hard. "I like you like this," he murmured when they parted, his voice full of surprise and lust.

"Like it?" She rolled her eyes, squirming in his arms: "You love it."

Jack smiled down at her. "I love you."

Her eyes softened momentarily as she smiled up at him. Then she slipped out of his embrace: "Save it for after I press that emergency stop button."

She flung open the door, marching out with head held high and as though nothing at all were going on. When she shot a look over her shoulder which told him to hurry, Jack obediently followed. Striding single-mindedly past the writer's table, laden with pizzas, sodas and snacks, Liz barely gave the food a glance. And no one glanced their way as they exited together, silent and speedy, Jack's palm finding the curve of her back.

_END._


End file.
